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groggy to walk to the cabin.
Once at the cabin, Nick took the mutt he d been supposed to fight, the newcomer, and tied
him to a tree. I double-checked the knots, and gave him another partial dose of sedative, to put
him to sleep. Then I took my mutt the one who d first come to challenge Jeremy into the
cabin.
I never took the gag from his mouth, and never said a word to him. There was nothing to
say. He d trespassed on our property, and he knew that the penalty for that might be death. The
death he was about to receive, though, was a punishment far in excess of the crime. Again, that
was a problem for me. I knew what had to be done, but I also understood the unfairness of it.
All I could do, then, was to make sure he d suffer no more than he would have if we d fought.
So, when we were in the cabin, I gave him the rest of the sedative dose, plus another half-shot.
He was unconscious within minutes. Then I hoisted him onto the plastic-covered table, double
checked the room, making sure all the plastic sheeting was still in place, and set to work.
It took two hours. A couple of times, I thought I wouldn t be able to finish. No, I wasn t
overcome by horror or disgust at the reality of what I d decided to do. I understand that, from a
human point of view, maybe I should have been, but that wasn t a problem. This was a job that
needed to be done, and because I knew the mutt felt nothing, it was no different than working
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with a corpse. To me, he was already dead. The problem was that I had to keep him alive, and
that was a feat that required more medical skill than I possessed. As part of my research, I d
studied field guides for war medicine, so I had some idea how to cauterize the wounds I was
inflicting, and keep him from bleeding out, but it wasn t easy.
Finally, the job was done. I pulled off the raincoat I d donned, so the blood spatter wouldn t
spook Nick, then headed outside.
By now, the other mutt was awake and struggling.
Shit, that really did take a long time, Nick said. What the hell were you doing in there?
I had to wait for him to wake up so I could talk to him first, I said. And now I need to
talk to this one. You remember the plan, right? I m taking him inside and you re waiting out
here.
Sure, but wouldn t it be easier
No.
It d be safer if there were two of us
I grabbed Nick s arm and pulled him aside, out of earshot of the other mutt. You re not
going inside, Nick. Not going in. Not looking in. You promised.
Shit, what did you ?
I m trying to protect our territory. That s all you need to know.
He glanced at the cabin, then at me. Yeah. Okay.
I took a knife from my pocket and advanced on the other mutt. His eyes widened at the
sight of the knife, but I only cut the ropes holding him to the tree. Then I dragged him to his feet
and shoved him toward the cabin. He looked around, as if considering making a break for it, but
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could barely walk, let alone run. At the door, I glanced back once, to make sure Nick was
staying outside, then went in and locked the door behind us.
I waited until the mutt finished emptying his stomach. The smell of vomit almost dowsed the
stink of blood and burnt flesh. Almost.
You sick son-of-a-bitch, he whispered, still doubled over. How could you ?
He puked again. I waited until the retching stopped.
He came on my territory, I said quietly. From now on, any mutt who comes on my
territory is going to end up like this. If you want to be the last mutt to walk away alive, then
there s something I need you do for me.
He shot upright. I am not doing anything
I grabbed his hand. With a wrench, I forced it over the heart of the mutt on the table. The
other mutt s eyes went round and he jerked back.
He s alive? He s still alive? You kept him !
The mutt swung at me, lost his balance on the blood-slicked plastic sheeting, and skidded to
the floor. I left him there, grabbed an axe from the pile of tools, then finished the job on the
unconscious mutt.
There, I said, turning to the one on the floor. He s dead. I just wanted to show you that I
could keep him alive. Think about that. I could do this to you, and let you live.
He lunged for my legs, but I grabbed the back of his shirt and swung him to his feet, then
shoved him against the wall and held him there until his struggles stopped.
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Here s what I want you to do, I said. I m giving you a mission. The price for your life is
this: you need to pass on what you ve seen. When you leave here, you re taking the first plane
out of New York State. You re flying back to your friends and telling them what happened,
every detail of it. You ll warn them that if they come here, this is what they can expect. Then,
once you ve told them, you ll find another mutt and tell him, and another, and tell him. If you
don t
You ll come after me, the mutt said between clenched teeth. His eyes blazed hate, but no
amount of revulsion could cover the raw fear behind it.
Yes, I ll come after you, but not just if you don t pass along the message. If anyone shows
up here again, then I ll know you haven t done your job and I ll come after you.
What? he yelped. I can t tell every last goddamned mutt in the world and even if I could,
what s to say they ll listen to me?
If you tell the story right, they ll listen, and they ll do your job for you by passing it on.
But what if they don t believe me? Shit, what person in their right mind could believe that
someone would ? His gaze swept the room, and he swallowed. They won t believe me.
Yes, they will. I dropped him, strode across the room and grabbed a handful of Polaroid
shots. If they don t, show them these.
You took pictures? Jesus Christ! You re you re
Someone you don t ever want to meet again, I said.
I shoved the pictures into his pocket, and prodded him out the door.
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And so the legend began. The mutt took my photos and took my tale and spread them as far as
he could. The story snowballed, as all such stories do, and over the years I ve heard dozens of
versions of it, each more outrageous than the last. Yet I never deny any of them. If a mutt came
up to me today and related the most sadistic exaggeration of the truth, I wouldn t deny it. Why
should I? What I did was bad enough. If he thinks I m capable of doing worse, why say
otherwise? Sure, he ll go away thinking I m the worst kind of depraved monster, but if it keeps
him off our territory, that s all that matters.
According to the legend, that day was the last day any mutt ever set foot near Stonehaven.
Is that true? Of course not. The story didn t spread fast enough to warn off every mutt. Even
when it did, two or three who had heard the tale couldn t resist taking a shot at this
wolf-monster. Yet none of those mutts ever returned, so even if their friends knew they d
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